One for the Road
by SleuthingSquirrel
Summary: Follow Mojave Express courier, Alex, as she tracks her would-be killer, whilst simultaneously getting into as much trouble as is humanly possible. Batteries not included. My first attempt at fiction, let me know how I'm doing. Disclaimer: I own nothing.
1. Chapter 1

_Her eyes opened slowly, her surroundings blurry, out of focus. Figures shifted before her, their faces she could not make out through the haze. It was dark, so dark, her head span. She could feel the pulse of her heart hammering in her chest, the rush of blood in her ears, the numbness to her limbs. The cool earth caressed her cheek._

_Slowly, the haze lifted, figures taking shape, and crosses, lots of crosses, the scent of decay. A graveyard. Indistinct voices in the distance, deep voices, punctuated by the constant rhythm of cracking and scraping earth. The sound familiar to her, but in her present state she struggled to recall the sound. Then it hit. Digging. They were digging. She tried to raise herself upright from her place on the floor, but her hands wouldn't move. They were bound. She wiggled her wrists against her binds, no use. Her legs too were bound. Panic._

_"Hey look who's waking up over here", the voice echoed in her head, her eyes meeting a figure as it approached._

_She went to speak, complain, shout anything, but only a stifled grunt left her lips, her voice muffled by the foul tasting material in her mouth. She had been gagged. She couldn't understand. Nothing made sense. She cried out, her eyes welling up as she struggled against her binds to no avail. The skin of wrists left bloodied and raw. Why couldn't she get free. What had she done to deserve this. Blind panic gave way to fear, fear to a reluctant acceptance that her efforts were in vain, and then by something entirely worse as her eyes caught the glint of silver as the figure approached, eyes fixed on the brilliant silver barrel of a gun. This was wrong. All wrong. She screamed against the gag, trying to desperately to unhook her binds with every step he took._

_She could see him clearly now, make out his face. The gelled hair, the groomed appearance, that awful black and white checkered jacket, the smug look on his face. It all screamed New Vegas. He was not alone either, two men at his back dressed in leathers, gang insignia on their jackets, shovels in hand, their eyes on her. She struggled and mewled out pathetically against her binds, her eyes filled with terror noting the newly dug grave at their feet. Her grave._

_No. Her mind screamed. _

_"Just do it already!" his associate, a tired looking man with a red mohawk, snapped._

_The suave talker held up his hand to silence the man at his back, "Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face," he said, his eyes going from her to glance slightly at the dark-skinned Khan, "but I ain't a fink, ya dig?"_

_He reached into his jacket, pulling out a platinum chip, her platinum chip. Her shipment. She was a courier. That was her shipment, he waved it in her face, "You made your last delivery, baby", he told her gently, like he could sympathise with her. Like hell. "I'm sorry that you got twisted up in this scene", he continued, tossing the chip in to the air with a self-satisfied smirk, the cool moonlight glinting off it's surface, "...but it's Vegas baby."_

_With a click he cocked the gun, the soft click of the hammer being set seemed to echo in her ears. It was the only sound that mattered, the only sound in the world at that moment in time. Her eyes widened, and she cried against the gag as the gun levelled with her head. She looked pathetic and weak as the fear wracked through her, shaking her to her core. Her eyes widened, and met his, moist with tears. Pleading with her eyes, she begged he let her go. She was terrified._

_With a smug grin he lowered the gun, and gave her a look as though he should explain. The guilt maybe. Or the sad look in her eyes. Whatever it was it only stalled the inevitable, "Don't look so sad, it's just business." he shrugged his shoulders, pulling a cigarette to his lips and lighting up, thumbing the expensive looking silver lighter in his hand, "Don't get me wrong baby, I know what you're feeling, and from where you're kneeling, it must seem like an eighteen karat run of bad luck. But the truth is, baby…" his arm slowly crept up, and once again she found herself looking down the barrel of the gun. Her heart pounded in her chest, she knew what was coming and she was powerless stop it, a mocking curl formed on his lips, she gritted her teeth, a final look into her killer's eyes,"...the game was rigged from the start."_

_**BANG.**_

With a start she shot up from the bed, a cold sweat forming on her brow, her eyes darting about the room hesitantly, the sheets barely covering her lithe form as she'd tossed and turned throughout the night. Her terror quickly subsided when she noted the battered wardrobe, the broken tv, the peeling wallpaper. It was, familiar. Novac. Her motel room. She was safe. The nightmares had become a regular inconvenience since that night in Goodsprings, but their very presence still rocked her to her core. She could remember it in all it's grim detail; the sights, the smells, the blind terror she felt in the pit of her stomach as the trigger was pulled, although the soft sounds outside let her know she wasn't alone. The sounds of a town going about their daily routines. Civilisation.

The dusky morning light was flitting through a crack in the moth-eaten curtains, and catching a glance of the dimly-lit radio clock by her bedside she heaved herself out of bed with a deep sigh, and rubbed her weary eyes. Morning already. A deep groan ushered from her throat as she threw her head back, stretching her arms out, the aches and pains of her weary muscles all too prevalent. She had arrived late last night, tired and weary, having made the four day walk from Goodsprings. The dingy apartment in which she found herself was scant in luxury, but to her it was a glimmering beacon of hope, a shining oasis, amongst the desolate wastes. This was the first time in over a week she had slept safe in the knowledge she would live to see the morning light. And that, itself, was a feeling that couldn't be quantified.

She pushed herself to her feet and ambled to the bathroom, her fingers buried in her thick blonde mane, and gazed at her tired reflection in the cracked mirror with a grunt. If the dark circles were anything to go by, she'd guess she'd had a pretty bad night. But she already knew that. Without a second thought she cranked the shower, enjoying the cool caress of clean water on her sun-brushes skin, and raked her damp hair into into a messy bun. She'd looked worse, she conceded as she smudged some kohl liner around her eyes, and pulled on some clean fatigues and a green vest, securing a faded leather gun-belt around her slim waist.

She had planned to ask around town in the hopes that somebody may have information about the man who shot her as it was likely, in her mind, that they had passed by just as she had, and to do this she felt she should make herself look presentable, and less like gunshot victim. She had also decided the best place to start would be that old lady who'd rented her the room, Jeannie-May, when she arrived exhausted and covered in dirt. After all she did kindly offer her services.

She took a long drink of water from the faucet, and pulled a box of snack cakes from her bag for breakfast. Nothing like a quick sugar fix to start the day. Sliding her battered pistol into the holster at her side and a sleek combat knife into her boot and she made her way out into the sunlight. She acknowledged that it was unlikely she would need them, but after previous experience she felt safer having the option. Besides, nowadays almost everyone carries a weapon, between the raiders and ferals, these were dangerous times.

The courtyard seemed a lot more animated, people where out and about, going about their daily routines, caravaneers and traders coming and going. She made her way swiftly down the iron stairwell to the main yard, and made a beeline for the head office. Since scrubbing up she also found she wasn't viewed with quite as much suspicion as she had on arrival, it was quite possible that underneath all of that dirt they weren't sure who, or what, she was. She couldn't take it to heart.

Jeannie-May was, as suspected, busy at work behind the old computer on her desk. Her eyes darted up from the screen, adjusted her thick rimmed glasses with a look akin to surprise, and in that cheerful southern drawl greeted her, "Good morning hunny, you're looking much better. I almost didn't recognise you. I hope you slept well"

"Yes I did, like a log, thank you".

"Good to hear, hunny. So what brings you here?", she asked, a small smile forming at the corners of her mouth, "I do hope you're not leaving us so soon."

"No, no, not just yet. Actually, I wondered if I could ask you a few questions...?"

"Sure thing, sugar."

"I'm looking for a guy, he may have passed through these parts, he was wearing a black and white checkered suit, seedy looking..."

"I'm afraid I haven't, they didn't stop in here that's for sure, like I said those New Vegas types usually just pass us by. But if you stop in an ask Andy, he's our Ranger, he might be able to help. You'll find him in his bungalow across the way", she replied.

Alex nodded in response, slightly annoyed that she'd hit a dead end, but given Jeannie-May's position she had half expected her not to have seen anything. From what she could tell most of her time was spent inside the front office, although she was appreciative of her willingness to offer other suggestions, "Thanks, Jeannie".

"No problem dearie, I hope you find your man", she replied with a coy smile.

Alex cringed inwardly at the thought of him being _her man_, but acknowledged the sentiment. She was only trying to be nice, and the idea of explaining why that weasel is in now way what-so-ever to be considered 'her man' did not appeal. She took it in her stride, smiled and left her to her daily chores.

~o~

Just as she was told, across the yard stood a rickety old bungalow with a red door. She knocked gently, and was greeted by an older, dark skinned, smartly dressed man in an NCR ranger uniform.

"Can I help you?" he asked, somewhat irritably, as he peered down on her through dark eyes. He was much taller than her, and damn serious looking.

"Hi, I'm Alex... I'm new in town...", she scrambled her words, slightly unnerved by the icy reception, "Sorry to trouble you but Jeannie-May suggested I talk to you, but if it's a bad time I can-"

"No, not at all, I'm not used to visitors, least not polite ones. Where are my manners...?", he replied softly, opening the door to her, "Please, come in". She nodded gently, a faint smile, and stepped in past him, noticing he was bearing his weight onto a walking stick. He shuffled past her, and lowered himself stiffly into his chair, "You'll have to excuse me, the old legs ain't what they used to be. Please have a seat...", he said, softly, it made a pleasant change from his initial tone, she obliged, pulling up a chair in front of him, "How can be of use to you, miss?"

"I'm looking for a guy in a checkered suit I think may have passed by here in the last few days..." she replied.

"No, my apologies miss, since I got this bum-knee I don't get out as much as I used to and I haven't heard of anyone matching that description pass by these parts. Those New Vegas types and their suits. I'm sorry I couldn't be of more use to you little lady..."

"That's no problem Andy, thank you for your time", she replied.

"If it isn't too forward might I ask why it is you're looking for this guy?" he asked, apologetically.

"He has something that belongs to me, stole it actually, and I intend to get it back, but I got to find the guy first..." she replied, a serious tone.

"This guy, he sounds like he's mixing with a bad crowd, they always do. You'd do well to stay away from him, but if you must find him I suggest you ask Manny, or Boone, they might be able to help you out. They see pretty much everyone who pass by, they're good guys, ex-NCR. Good men".

"Okay Andy, where can I find them?"

"The big green dinosaur out front, got a sniper nest up there. They keep a lookout over the Mojave for unsavoury types, sounds like your guy would fit that description, nothing passes those boys unnoticed...", he replied with a cheerful smile.

"Thanks", she replied sweetly, rising from her seat.

Andy went to stand but gave up on the idea, his leg was obviously giving him discomfort, "Old legs ain't what they used to be..." he grumbled, she walked over to him and took his hand in hers with a warm smile, "If only I was ten years younger, you know I used to be quite the charmer in my day..."

"Used to be...? I'd say you still got it", she replied in a sultry tone, a coy smile playing on her lips. He smiled back, flattered at her charm. She knew her way around a man, good at getting what she wanted, most of the time. Growing up in the wastes, it was a necessity.

"You take care of yourself miss, feel free to come back and flatter this old dog any day, I may be retired, but there's probably still a thing or two I could teach you!"

"Now I don't doubt that", she remarked as she showed herself the door, throwing one last smile in his direction.

Courtyard again, no closer to an answer, and somewhat disheartened. Two down, how many more to go in this little town? There couldn't have been more than twenty residents, thirty at a pinch. Her hopes were already dwindling, but as Andy had suggested, the town lookouts may have a clue. She hoped.

She made her way across the courtyard, towards the goofy monolith with a sigh, and clambered up the stairs and through the door. She was somewhat surprised to find what looked like a shop stashed inside the belly of the beast, the man behind the counter introducing himself as Cliff. Seemed friendly enough, plenty of small talk, couldn't add anything to her quest however, for which he was very apologetic.

She ascended the stairs and slipped through the door, finding herself standing in the mouth of that ridiculous dinosaur, surrounded by it's grinning white teeth. A man in army green fatigues and a red beret turned to face her, a perplexed look plastered his tanned mug, "Do I know you...?", he asked rifle in hand.

She approached him, looking him over, his eyes fixed on her. His skin tone, his eyes, bore a passing resemblance those those that had accompanied the suit that night. That tribal air, but no this one was different. He wasn't one of them. Lucky for him. In a confident tone she replied, "No, but you're Manny right?"

"Yeah, you see a rifle sticking out the dinosaur's mouth you got a fifty-fifty chance it's me or Boone. Anything comes within a thousand yards that looks like trouble we deal with...", he replied, adjusting his beret, "...but what's it to you?"

"I'm looking for a guy in a checkered suit, had two guys with him, tribals or something...", she paused, noting the faint change of expression across his lips, mulling it over, he _knew_ something.

"I might, what's it worth to you...?" he replied, grazing his dark chin stubble with his thumb and forefinger.

Her expression dropped somewhat, she brought herself closer to him, her dark brown eyes fixed on his, "_Everything..._",she replied, a seductive smile crossing her lips. If all else fails turn up the charm.

His face froze for an instant, a brief moment, before he let loose with a whole-hearted chuckle, clearly not impressed, "You're all the same aren't you? Come here looking all lost, flutter your eyelashes and think you're Gods gift. Well darlin' hate to burst your bubble an' all but you're just not my type, so sorry toots, either make with some caps or take a hike..."

"You think I really came here to flirt with some grease ball I just met? All I've got an the clothes on my back, the gun at my hip and this fucking souvenir...", she replied curtly, pointing to the purple blemish on her forehead, "If you're not gonna help just say so, I ain't got time for this shit!"

No reply, she grunted and turned to leave, "Hold on..." he said, in a softer tone, "I have some information that might help you out but it's not going to come for free. We can do a trade, I'll help you if you to help me..."

"...and do what, exactly?" came her response, suspicious of the request.

"There's a facility just north of here, the old REPCONN testing facility, been having some problems ghouls there recently. You get rid of the ghouls and I'll tell you what I know..."

She raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure what to make of this guy. She'd heard stories of ghouls, none of which particularly instilled her with confidence about what was being asked of her, "That beret, military issue right?"

"Yeah, NCR first-recon, the best of the best..."

"...So why can't you sort out the ghoul problem?" She thought it worth asking.

"This town depends on me, I can't leave my post. That's why", he grunted, nonchalantly, "You gonna help out or what?"

"Fine"

"Thanks, I really appreciate it." He replied, a subtle honesty to his tone, maybe he really was grateful. She threw him a half-hearted smile and excused herself from the room, thinking to herself it was a good thing she brought her gun after all.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time she reached REPCONN the sun was out in full-force, she stood and looked at the multi-storied facility before her. Besides a few collapsed supports the place looked in remarkably good shape. A small paved landing stood out front, brown shrivelled trees dotted here and there, the rusted out remains of a rocket standing dead centre.

She kept close to the crumbling walls, gun in hand, and skulked up the weathered stairwell leading to the building. In the distance the wind was kicking up dust cyclones from the dried earth. Peeking round the corner, she adjusted her dark glasses, the sun was blinding. In the distance there was movement, she was sure of it. She slid down into a crouch, keeping out of sight, she noticed two boney orange forms scuttling about in the distance, picking through the debris, and fighting over what looked like the remains of a human arm, blackened and decayed. The sight did little to instil her with confidence.

Their primal instincts peeked, they sniffed the air sensing the an intrusion, picking up her scent. She threw herself back against the wall, her gun clutched tightly to her chest. One of the creatures edged closer, dropping the arm it had been gnawing, the promise of something better lingering in the distance. The shuffling of feet touched her ears, the wheezing breath of the ghoul at her side, the smell of decaying flesh. Her heart thumped in her chest, and between breaths she spun out from her perch on the stairwell and with a squeeze of the trigger the ghoul went down with a soft thud. The second caught wind of her presence, and in an instant was up and running towards her, surprisingly fast for something that looked like it should be dead, wailing and slathering. Raising the gun with one swift movement, a double-tap of the trigger sent the second ghoul's limp body hurtling to the ground. A ragged breath left her lips, relief.

She crept slowly up the walkway, the gun firmly in her hands by her side, and made her way slowly across the pot-holed courtyard to the heavy facility doors. Definitely military. She gently pushed the door open without a sound.

Inside it was dark, stale and sticky. The scent of death and decay permeated the thick, acrid air. Grimy floors, stained with blood, lined the corridors, the odd light here and there casting a dull glow. The door clicked shut behind her, her heart was in her mouth, and her skin crawled as she could hear the sickly groan of ghouls in the distance. In front of her lie the motionless, hulking blue mass of a Nightkin, face down, dead. The sight sent shivers down her spine. Anything that could take down a nightkin would not bear thinking of in her present situation.

She stood for a moment, listening, waiting for her heartbeat to slow. Exhaling she stepped over the blue heap, and with her gun at the ready edged towards the front desk, and cracked open the top drawer finding inside a weighty bag of caps alongside discoloured piles of paperwork and a broken 9mm pistol which she inspected. _Lot of good it did them,_ she grumbled as she stuffed the caps into her pack.

The lights dimmed and flickered off, she froze, hot breath on her neck as she reached for her pistol. She turned, slowly, the dim lights flickering back into life, she found herself staring face to face with the deformed visage of a ghoul. It howled at her, it's fetid moist breath warming her face, she stifled a gag as she pushed the vile thing away with a hard kick to the chest, and shot it clean between the eyes. She gazed down at it's sickly form, her breath coming out in heavy rasps, she shuddered, "Freaking ghouls!", deciding now would be as good a time as any to make tracks.

She took a tentative step into the corridor, eyes darting to every twitch, flicker, and rattle in the darkness. Nudging a buckled old door open with the tip of her boot she found a set of sticky, bloodstained stairs. She crept slowly, silently, up the stairwell, her back to the wall and gun poised.

At the top she glanced around the corner. Her breath hitched as she caught sight of a second feral, snarling and moaning. She took the shot, it's limp body hitting the floor with a wet thud, and shakily reloaded, nearly dropping her ammo stash everywhere when a nearby intercom crackled into life, a raspy voice on the other end, "Hey smoothskin, get to the set of stairs on the right side of the building. Be careful, it's dangerous, and make it snappy".

Startled, she hit the intercom and replied in an angry tone, "What-? Why the hell would I do that? Who the hell is this?"

"Just get up here", the voice finished, and the intercom went dead. She grumbled irritably to herself, as she inched around the corner into a long, dark corridor, gun first.

Cautiously she made her way through the winding corridor, taking out a further pair of ghouls along the way, she wasn't taking any chances. It become evident that there were a number of offices, filled with computers, desks, chairs, all that pre-war shit.

Eventually she found the stairwell, an old iron structure, didn't look all that safe but given the options at her disposal she could see little choice in the matter. She began her ascent, the faint metallic footfalls echoing as she walked.

The lights flickered out once again and she paused, her back hugging the handrail, a glowing one came into view. She skulked up the stairs until it came into view and with a well-positioned shot cracked it's skull clean in half, showering the ground around it with green goo. The smell was putrid.

She came to a heavy iron door, gun at the ready, and was surprised when the door opened before her, inside stood a strangely normal, middle-aged guy in a white lab coat. She lowered the weapon, hesitantly, she went to speak but that raspy-voice beat her to it, "Good, you made it here alive. Not bad for a smoothskin..."

She raised an eyebrow, somewhat irately, thinking to herself she hadn't seen smoother skin on a newborn's arse when looking at this guy, yet he berated her for not being a ghoul. She wanted to argue the fact but to what point or purpose, she wanted out of here and she wanted out now.

"Jason Bright wishes to see you..." that voice again.

"Who's-"

"I don't have time for your questions smoothskin - speak to Jason", he cut her off, and waved her away, before going about his daily business not acknowledging her further.

Fuck Manny, she thought to herself as she headed into the room.

~o~

She found herself surrounded by computers and work benches in the small room, and face to face with Jason Bright's radioactive green glowing form. Of all things she expected to happen today, making small talk with a ghoul was not one of them. Let alone a Glowing One in a robe that thinks himself the messiah of the wastes.

"Yes my friend, a coincidence isn't it that one in my state would have been given such a name, I was not always this way you see...", he went on, his tone soft, well-spoken, "You must have many questions, and I hope I can answer them, but it was the Great One who told me of your coming. You are the promised one who will lead us on our great journey".

Her eyes shot up, confused, "Wait, what! Chosen one? No, no, no, NO!I just came here to send you on your way..."

"Yes, you are the Chosen One, it has been prophesied...", she looked blank, this was really not what she had in mind, "We have waited patiently for the time to come when we would be ready to embark on our journey, only we have been prevented from attaining this by the Nightkin that have moved into the basement..."

"What, wait, wait, what was that..._Nightkin_?", she asked, a bemused creeping over her face.

"Yes, the Nightkin. They have killed many of my brethren, I believe this is something you share in common. They are unfortunates, true, but they are no less my kin. I do not hold it against you, they have lost their humanity and their ability to reason. They would show you no mercy."

She stood, mouth agape as he berated her for slaying his 'kin'. They were ferals, hard to believe they had been anything other than monstrous abominations, and for once she was speechless.

He placed a glowing, skeletal hand softly on her shoulder, "...but I believe you are the one they have sent to save us. If you can remove the Nightkin, we can embark on The Great Journey, and my brethren and I will find a place in this universe."

She chuckled disbelievingly, and snapped her jaw shut realising this wasn't a joke. He was serious. She shifted uncomfortably, and stuttered in response, "You want _me_ to remove your Nightkin problem? Me?"

"Yes."

She straightened up, and placing a hand on her hip mulled the prospect over, remembering the sheer size of the dead beast she had encountered in the front office. If she were honest with herself her chances were not good, five foot eight, hundred and forty pound girl versus a hulking mutant weighing three hundred fifty, easy, but if this was the only way they'd move on she didn't herself having much choice in the matter, "So what exactly do you want me to do?"

"We need you to talk to the Nightkin, get them to leave the basement so were can access out transport units in order to make the Great Journey. The Great One's tell us this is so." He replied, softly, a grateful smile crossing his weathered green face. "You have a great mission ahead of you, but do not fear the Old Ones tell me you will succeed." Deftly, his hand reached into his tattered robe pocket, and removed a small silver key which he placed into her hand, curling her fingers around it's form, "You will need this to gain access to the basement, return to me when it is done".

She took the key begrudgingly, and slipped it into her pocket. Quietly amazed at the things she does for answers, she turned from her luminescent friend, and muttering obscenities under her breath made her way out of the room, Jason waving her on her merry way.

~o~

The basement was quiet, too quiet perhaps, and dark. Darker than before. She crept forward putting her best face on, silently knowing that on the inside she was trembling. Her hand hovered on the trigger tentatively, although she feared a shot from a gun of that calibre would prove little more than a mere annoyance to a beast of that size. She's heard stories, horrible stories, about the Nightkin. Tales that they would tear a man clean in half for so much as passing a wayward glance in their direction, the result of terrible paranoia from years of abusing Stealth Boy technology. She wouldn't stand a chance against these hulking beasts and their heavy clubs, she feared.

Her heart hammered against her chest, and her breath burned in her throat as she advanced with every step towards a second doorway. She pressed herself against the cold wall, and peeked around the corner, gun to her chest. Up and down the corridor, it was clear, not a soul in sight. She crept out gingerly, trying to keep silent her footfalls, when from around the corner her eyes fixed on a glimmer and crackle of electrical static followed by a deep growl as a Rebar Club came swinging towards her. She gasped and ducked out of the way of the club as it smashed into the wall with a great crash, sending a plume of brick dust into the air.

Jumping back, she clumsily pulled her gun and fired two shots in quick succession. The beast howled in pain as they pierced it's thick hide, yet it did not stop, instead advancing towards her, faster, angrier than before. It's huge arm flew at her, the back of it's hand connecting with her stomach throwing her back against the wall with a crack, the wind knocked clean out of her, and warm dampness gathering on her arm, blood.

In a daze she fumbled for her gun, finding she had been separated from it as it now sat behind the foot of the beast. The thing charged her, howling, raising the the club to strike her, finish her. She panicked, pushed away from the wall, dodging the incoming missile by mere inches.

She rolled to her feet, drawing her knife from her boot and, ignoring the pain in her arm and the fresh blood soaking her sleeve, she threw herself towards the wall as the club came crashing down, and launched herself at the beast, wrestling it from behind, stabbing away at the hulk's neck. A geyser of hot red blood showered her, soaking her through. So much for laundry. The beast thrashed wildly, trying to throw her off, she clung on for dear life. His movements became sloppy, weakened by the assault, his sheer strength ebbing away, until finally he collapsed with a hefty thud. Rebar Club and all.

Exhausted, she slid the knife back into her boot, and wiping the blood from her face she hauled herself shakily to her feet. Both scared and relieved she looked down at the colossal beast, it's thick blood stained the floor, the realisation setting in that where there's one there's likely others. A thought which did little to instil her with confidence.

She turned her attention to the warm wetness at her arm, and gasped at the sight of her blood staining her shirt. She was capable of many things, handling the sight of her own blood was not one of them. She stifled a gag, and reached into her bag hurriedly withdrawing a half-empty bottle of whiskey and some gauze. Yanking the brittle cork from the bottle with her teeth and spitting it out, she took a long swig of the bitter liquid and poured the remainder over the wound with a grimace. It stung like hell. She dressed the wound best she could with the one hand. It didn't take long for the blood to soak through, but it'd do until she had the time to dress the wound properly. Now was not that time.

Repositioning her hands on her 10mm, she continued down the corridor, towards another door marked 'Launch Area' a message underneath reading no unauthorised persons. Figuring there was no one around to enforce the rule she hit the access control and readied herself for a fight as the door slid open.

"Who are you human?", a gruff voice demanded. Her eyes darted over to him, hands firmly on the gun. A Super Mutant, she noted, much bigger than the last, dressed in _almost_ human clothing. In his hand he carried a pale white brahmin skull, picked clean of flesh. He spoke animatedly to the macabre remains, as if in debate, and regarded her suspiciously with every pause.

"Antler does not like unexpected guests, Davidson agree...", he continued, pausing and bringing the skull closer to his ear, "...but Antler tell me you different. What you want, human?".

She lowered her gun slightly, and replied in a cool tone, "I'm here on behalf of the ghouls upstairs...", the words sounded foreign in her mouth given the sheer ridiculousness of her present situation. How many other people can say they had come to negotiate with the muties on behalf of the local ghoul population, all so they can launch themselves into merry oblivion; in the hopes that some random guy, who spends his days in a dinosaur's mouth, will give her some information that may, or may not, help her find the man who shot her in the head and left her for dead. If she hadn't been in such a dire situation she may have laughed about it. She sighed, "They want you to leave this area".

"Stupid human, we not stay here, want Stealth Boys only, then leave...", he grumbled, putting the skull, who she figured was this Antler, to his ear again, "Antler say you help find Stealth Boys. You find Stealth Boys, we leave, then no problem for silly ghouls. Fix problem."

She was getting tired of this, but hell it beat killing the beefy bastards, "...How do you propose I do that then?", she asked, somewhat sarcastically, hand planted on her hip.

"The ghoul, Harland, he guard the supply room, he murder my kin. He not squishy like other ghoul. You remove ghoul and find precious Stealth Boy, we leave...", he replied, placing Antler gently onto the desk besides him.

"Fine...", she grumbled, and left the room once again feeling like an errand-girl. Although she acknowledged that a peaceful resolution has got to be better than having her head caved in by a Rebar Club. Making her way tentatively across the hall, she found herself standing in front of the supply hold. Locked. She pulled her pack from her back, and rifled through it removing a screwdriver and bobby pin, and set to work on picking the lock all the while conscious of the precariousness of her situation.

It seemed like a lifetime, but with a promising click the last of the pins gave, and she breathed a welcome sigh of relief as the door creaked open, but it was a feeling of relief that was unfortunately short lived as she found herself face to face with Harland and his hunting rifle as he looked down on her from his vantage point on the overhead walkway. Around her the bodies of no less than four dispatched Nightkin.

"What do you want smoothskin?" he demanded gruffly, his rifle pointed as he face, a hard line formed on his lips.

"If people keep calling me smoothskin I'm going to get a complex...", she joked. His stoic expression remained, her humour obviously wasted on him, "Jason Bright sent me to sort out the Nightkin..."

Unexpectedly he started to laugh, so he did have a sense of humour, replying between snorts, "Jason sent _you _to sort out the Nightkin? What you gonna do doll, sweet-talk 'em to death?"

Irate, she stepped forward, oblivious to the gun that was pointed at her face, and let loose, "Listen I haven't got time to do everyone's fucking donkey work, so just listen up and listen good. The Nightkin want a shipment of Stealth Boys that they believe are held in this room, if they get the Stealth Boys they will leave, and if they leave you can leave, and if you leave you can start your little journey with Jason and his buddies and I can get on my merry fucking way!", he lowered the gun, speechless at her tirade, "So you gonna help or what?"

"There are no Stealth Boys here, you think I'd still be here if there were? I've been holed up here for two weeks now!" he replied, agitatedly, "There's a computer up here if you can figure out how to access it, maybe that'll tell you something..."

She thanked him, and slid her pistol into it's holster, but was stopped abruptly by him as she advanced towards the stairwell, "Be careful, I've mined the area...", he warned.

"Great, thanks for letting me know, better late than never eh?" she replied, sarcasm colouring her tone. She made her way carefully towards the stairs, weaving her way through the raised mounds dotted along the floor until eventually she found herself at the locked terminal on a level with Harland.

He eyed her suspiciously as she tapped away on the computer, trying to bypass the terminal security, after three failed attempts at hacking the system a cheerful beep let her know she'd been granted access and no sooner did she start to trawl through the supply inventory did it become glaringly obvious the Stealth Boys the muties were so intent on possessing were moved to another facility. She did not enjoy the prospect of telling them the bad news, but hey such is the life of a courier, and begrudgingly she made her way back to Davidson to give him the good news.

He wasn't impressed, she thought she as done, the way he glowered at her, but on consulting with Antler he accepted her explanation and, contrary to her previous notion, he cheerfully shuffled out of the office scratching his big mutant head. No further words were spoken, and a massive sigh of relief left her lips as she watched the menacing behemoth disappear off into the distance. His hulking steps fading into the darkness.

~o~

Between the muties, Harland and Jason Bright, Manny's little skirmish turned out to be quite the adventure. As she stood overlooking the launch dock from her vantage point in the control room, the thought finally crossed her mind that for once today there was light at the end of the tunnel. There was a hive of activity below as Jason Bright gave a triumphant speech to his followers, as they were about to embark on their journey, and the lot of them shuffled into their rockets excitedly.

She forced a smile as Jason waved her, giving her their _heartfelt _thanks. Silently she thought to herself they're fucking crazy, although it was amazing to think that in little under an hour the ghouls would be gone, hurtling triumphantly into the stratosphere looking for their Promised Land, or, more likely, crashing into some poor sod's livelihood in a glorious fireball erstwhile perpetuating the myth that aliens really do dig farmsteads. All the while the people of Novac stare from their windows, wondering just what in the hell is going on, and they wouldn't be alone.

As she stood in the control room watching the rockets shoot into the air, Frankie S crooning _come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away_, one thought entered her mind, it's gonna be a long walk back to Novac.


	3. Chapter 3

It was nightfall before she reached Novac, and she was painfully aware of how she looked, clothes soaked through with sweat and blood, and the dull ache that had taken hold of her arm which now hung limply at her side. It was a welcome sight when the grinning dinosaur came into view, she never thought she'd be so happy to see the goofy grin. It was like a glorious beacon in the desert, pulling her in. Although, whatever relief she may have felt to have been back in Novac paled in comparison to how how angry she was with the sniper. There were two things she longed for at this precise moment in time; the first was a long soak in the tub followed up with a good dose of Med-X, the second was a few minutes alone with Manny so she could kick his sorry ass.

On crossing the courtyard her eyes caught sight of that dinosaur once again and her mind was made up, sod the bath, she was going to give that bastard a piece of her mind. Hell hath no fury and all that.

She made her way briskly, confidently, up the stairs to the sniper's nest, trying to ignore the dull throb in her arm, ready to give the weasel-faced sniper an ear-bashing. With no further thought she tore open the door, and stormed the cramped quarters, launching into a full-scale verbal assault, "Manny you fucking shit stain, I ought to fucking tear you fucking a new one! You almost got me:-" she froze, for the second time today finding the barrel rifle aimed squarely at her face "Holy shit..." she whimpered, quickly realising the man before her was not Manny.

"What do you want?" the stoney-faced male demanded, unflinching, his brown eyes meeting hers in a hard stare. She noted he had the same beret on as Manny, though he was of larger build and definitely more formidable. Most certainly military. And very scary. It wasn't often she questioned her better judgement, or lack there of, but this would most certainly be classed as one of those times.

Making the most of a bad situation, she took a small step towards him, a small smile tugging at her lips, and raised her hands in mock-surrender. If all else fails, feign confidence, "...I'm looking for Manny", she replied softly, in an enticing tone as she pushed the gently pushed the rifle from her face, quietly fearing he may just shoot her dead.

The man quirked an eyebrow and lowered the gun, much to her relief. His hard eyes fixed on her, "He's not here." he replied, his tone brusque, as he looked her over with suspicion, lingering on the bloodied bandage on her arm.

"Thank you captain obvious...", she replied dryly, praying he had a sense on humour. He frowned. Maybe not. She smiled awkwardly, and took a tentative step towards him, hand outstretched in a gesture of goodwill, "I'm Alex. You must be Boone, right?"

He eyed her outstretched hand, not reciprocating, his reply cold as his glare, "What of it?"

"Manny told me about you, before he sent me on his little suicide mission..." she snapped, her strong, confident front crumbling.

"Sounds about right." he replied in an unexpectedly softer tone.

"What a douche!" she groaned, placing a hand on her hip and craning her neck back against the hard plastic wall of the dino's mouth with a grunt. Remembering the beret, she quickly composed herself, looking swiftly back at the man eyeing her, stuttering, "...he's not a friend of yours, is he?"

"No", he scoffed.

"That's good I suppose, don't really need to be making any more friends round these parts!" She chuckled, reaching into her fatigues and removing a crumpled cigarette packet, "Want a smoke?" She asked, offering the raggedly looking box to him with a grin.

"Don't smoke".

"Probably a good thing, this shit'll kill ya, but hell after the week I've had that's the least of my worries", she grinned, placing a yellowed cigarette softly between her lips, and lit up taking a long drag.

"What do you want with Manny anyway?" he asked, the hard line of his lips softening.

She exhaled a thin stream of white smoke from between her lips, and chuckled softly, a wry grin on her face, "I keep asking myself the same fucking question. He said he knew something about some guy I'm looking for, wouldn't give it up though, information is currency and all that shit. Asshole's clap-trapping on about some ghoul infestation down at REPCONN, asked if I would mind checking it out, like it's gonna be a walk in the fucking park. You know, I offered to help the guy and all that, and he fucking sends me into the jaws of hell. Only been here a day and already making friends. Fucking mutants...", she grumbled, motioning towards her bloodied arm with a grimace, "but hell, you think that's bad you should've seen the other guy", she chuckled.

She could feel him study her with his eyes, she shifted uncomfortably, smoothing her hair so it covered the purple scar on her forehead, "That from REPCONN too?" he asked, eyeing the mark with a raised eyebrow.

"No, that's the other guy, the one I'm looking for...", she trailed off, uncomfortable with the subject, "I don't have much luck with men, but if they're trying to kill me they're not doing a very good job!" She smirked, confident front sliding back into place. He grunted a response, that hard line firmly on his lips.

_Tough crowd_, she thought as a thick silence descended between the two, "So, how's the night life around here?" she joked, approaching the edge of the dino's mouth, the night air cool on her cheeks as she looked out towards the horizon. Nothing but the gentle bristling of dried up old trees stirred in the distance, "...that much huh?", she sighed flicking the cigarette butt out into the cold distance. He gave no reply. She turned to face him once again, and throwing her head back in frustration groaned, "Would it kill you to talk to me? Jeez it's like making pillow talk with the fucking Legion!"

The briefest flash of contempt crossed his face, before being replaced by that stony glare. "I think you should leave", he replied flatly, no emotion behind the voice.

"Just making friendly conversation", she sighed.

"I don't have any friends around here".

"Good thing I'm not from around here then!" She replied jovially, rocking on the heels of her boots and she linked her fingers and stretched her arms out in front of her. He'd cave, they always did, unless they're Manny, that is. She waited, and waited. Silence.

She lowered her herself back down flat on her feet, and with a shrug turned to leave, almost admitting defeat, thinking it must be something to do with these beret boys, but was stopped in her tracks when his gruff voice called back, "Wait. Maybe you shouldn't go - not just yet".

She quickly turned to face him, amused, "And why's that?" She teased, leaning back against the door, arms folded, watching as he searched for the words.

"I need someone I can trust. You're a stranger, that's a start".

She pulled herself away from the door, straightening up and placing a hand on her hip, she cocked an eyebrow in bemusement, "You only trust strangers?", she replied slowly, in disbelief, a harsh emphasis on _trust_.

Fighting back his annoyance at the quip, he snapped, "I _said_ it was a start!" he paused momentarily, looking away, there was a pain behind that cold glare, something terrible, "This town...nobody looks me in the straight eye anymore..."

She straightened up, the softening of his tone suggesting something very personal was to be asked of her, "I need... I want you to find something out for me. I don't know if there's anything to find, but I need someone to try. My wife was taken from our home one night whilst I was on watch, Legion Slavers. They knew when to come, the route they should take, everything. And they only took Carla. Someone set it up, but I don't know who".

"You want me to find your wife?"

His response was sharp, catching her off guard, "My wife's dead. I want the son of a bitch who sold her!"

"How do you know she's dead?", she asked, cautiously, feeling all of a sudden guilty for her little quip.

"I just know, alright? And that's all you need to know."

"Okay, jeez, so what do you want me to do when I find this person?" She asked calmly, if she was honest she'd ask why everyone saw fit to ask her all these favours, but given the current climate in the room she felt this would be a bad move. This guy was opening up to her, this locked down, cold as ice guy, and she couldn't shoot him down. His face wouldn't betray his emotions but it didn't take a genius to tell he was upset.

"Take my beret, and when you find the guy you just bring them out front of the nest here and put it on. That way I'll know you're standing with the right guy. I'll do the rest. You can count on that", he replied cooly.

She took the garment from the sniper's calloused hand, and casting her eyes over the sun-bleached red fabric her eye fell to the proud insignia embellishing the front, an animal skull over crossed rifles, the mark of an NCR sharpshooter, "I'll do my best, but I'm not making any promises." She replied.

"Fine", he grunted impatiently, the girl nodded and made for the door, "One more thing", she paused, "I don't think we should speak again until it's done, nobody knows I know what happened to my wife. I intend to keep it that way, or the Legion will be after me next".

She looked into his dark eyes, and nodded gently, "Not a problem", she replied curtly. After todays little rendezvous she wasn't exactly all that keen to make a repeat visit any time soon, and without another word she turned to see herself out of the nest and out of his hair, figuratively speaking.

If she were honest about the situation, she would readily admit she was more than a little unsure about the guy, but there was something about him, something behind those cold eyes and that icy glare. It was a front, but for what she did not know. The guy was a mystery, and the idea he would only trust a stranger was ludicrous, unheard of. In fact there was every possibility she was being set up, but she was in far too deep to back out now. Hell, he hadn't blown her head off, now _that's_ a start. But he'd have to wait, they'd all have to damn well wait, she was too damned tired and too damned ticked off to even contemplate running another thankless errand for anyone, not least a potentially sociopathic sniper with an attitude problem.

Tonight was for sleep, everything else could wait. After all she needed to be in fighting form to deal with Manny, the leathery-skinned weasel.


	4. Chapter 4

The following morning she found herself stood in Jeannie-May's office, the radio playing softly in the background, her eyes drifting off into the distance, her thoughts not far behind. How long had been talking? Her legs were starting to ache. She'd only asked about Boone's wife, and there she was reeling off word after word in that southern drawl. Jeannie was nice and all, but damn she could talk.

"...She was never really happy here, she seemed bored, and never really took the time to _integrate_ with the community. She always wanted something more. I'm afraid we weren't really exciting enough for her, but coming from New Vegas what did she expect?" Jeannie rambled on, although Alex had zoned out some time ago, staring off into the distance, absently mindful of the southern drawl gushing from Jeannie-May's mouth.

As the older woman finally trailed off she snapped back into the present, somewhat confused having missed half of what was said, "Huh, yeah, sure, that's really...helpful, Jeannie. So you, um...you don't know what happened to her then?" She asked, hoping for a straight answer.

Jeannie's small eyes met hers suspiciously, as she leant forward on the counter motioning her in, covertly, as if she were worried someone might overhear, and in a soft tone replied, "The honest truth, honey? I think she up and left. I know Boone thinks she was kidnapped, poor man, but i'm not so sure she didn't just run off on her own. You could tell she was thinking about it ever since the day they arrived. She never did like it here, she liked the big lights and fast living of New Vegas. Got the feeling she wanted Boone to leave with her, but I guess she got tired of waiting".

Alex grumbled quietly to herself, and hauled herself away from the desk feeling she had wasted the best part of the morning getting nowhere, "Thanks for your time, Jeannie" she replied, almost half-heartedly as she showed herself the door.

"No problem honey, let me know if ya'll need anythin' else now", she called out merrily. The girl nodded and gently closed the door behind her.

She kicked a loose bit of rock free of the courtyard sending a wisp of dust into the air, frustrated with the lack of leads she was getting. No one seemed to know a damn thing. Ranger Andy, nothing. Cliff, nothing. The motel residents, nothing. Nada, zip, diddly-squat. It was all the same shit, she left, she never fit in, she kept to herself. She didn't seem much liked that was for sure, but why she had no idea.

Her eyes caught the rump of the dinosaur, and one thought crossed her mind, Manny. Pushing her mass of freshly clean hair back over her shoulder she made her way once again into the oversized plastic behemoth, and taking that same route up those eroded stairs, pushed the door open with a grunt. She found Manny, back turned to her, surveying the landscape as usual.

She was half-tempted to give him a little shove, but managed to resist the urge as he turned to meet her eyes, an almost mocking curl forming at either side of his mouth, "So you made is back, I was getting worried about you".

_Yeah, sure you were_, she grumbled inwardly.

"Sure...", she grunted, if looks could kill she'd be the world's greatest assassin as she glared back at him, "I sorted out your little problem so make with your end of the deal!", she snipped.

He grazed his chin fuzz with his fingertips, as he mulled it over, the girl getting more and more agitated with his apparent stalling.

"The guy you're looking for, _Benny_, he was traveling with some members of my old gang. They were going to Boulder City".

"_You_ were in a gang?", she asked, suspiciously, he certainly didn't come across as a ganger. Too clean cut.

"I was with the Khans, man. It doesn't get any badder." He replied, proudly.

"Right. Sure. Well you got any idea why they were headed that way?"

"No clue, just know that Benny hadn't paid up yet. Maybe that was where they were supposed to get square."

"That's it?"

"Yeah. That's it."

She groaned to herself, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her fingertips in frustration, she couldn't help but feel short-changed, after all she risked her life, "Fine, where's Boulder City?" She grumbled.

"Straight up Route 93 from here. Just keep following the road north and you'll find it." The smirk that crossed his face, sickening.

"Thanks...", she replied half-heartedly tapping the route into her Pip-Boy. The tension she felt lessened slightly now that she'd been given the information, limited as it was.

She turned to the door, but stopped in her tracks, her index finger brushing her lip thoughtfully. She turned around, eyes meeting his once again, the frustrated grimace she had sported replaced by a sly smirk, "Manny...?", the sniper's eyed her cautiously, "What do you know about Boone's wife?"

"What?", came his startled reply.

"Boone's wife, she's missing. What do you know about her?"

He raised his brow, questioningly, "I know things are a lot easier with her gone".

"You don't seem particularly distressed that your friend's wife went missing?"

"Why should I? I enlisted in the NCR to make a future for myself, and when I moved here I brought my best friend to enjoy that future. And here was this woman who was too good for it, trying to take him away. One day she turns up missing, and he hasn't said a word to me since, like I had something to do with it. I mean hell, I didn't see eye-to-eye with the bitch on some things, and we had some pretty big arguments, but I didn't touch the woman." He snapped.

"Any idea who would want her gone?"

"Man, everybody. That girl didn't have one friend in this whole town. She didn't want any. She wanted to sit in her room all day and make herself miserable, and she actually went out of her way to be rude. She upset a lot of people. You wouldn't have liked her either."

"So, what did you think when you heard?"

"What is this, your life in a thousand questions? Believe me, when I first heard the news my first thought was I owe somebody, big. I figured Boone would come around after a while, but he hasn't and I'm starting to think that unless he finds her things will never go back to the way they were." His tone had lowered, obviously upset by the prospect. Didn't help her though, mean as it was to suggest.

She shifted her shifted her weight, and uncrossed her arms, adjusting her tattered cowboy hat uncomfortably. Sure Manny had issues with the woman, that was obvious, but his manner didn't suggest he had anything to do with her disappearance, "So in other words, you don't know what happened to her?"

"No".

"Okay...", she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, "Thanks anyway, I guess. I'm gonna get going."

She made her way to the front door, and with her hand on the handle came the inevitable question, "Why all the interest in Boone's wife?".

She turned her head and glanced back at him, eyebrows raised and arms folded across his chest, "Lets just call it a favour for a fellow lost soul". She could tell he didn't quite know what to make of that as she saw herself out. With all these dead ends, she thought to herself, how many to go? There couldn't be that many people in this backwater town.

As she resigned herself to returning to her room and throwing in the towel she caught sight of someone she hadn't seen before, crossing the yard just outside the fenced area. All things considered, what did she have to lose?

She made after him, and on seeing her he seemed to shuffle away quickly, head lowered, careful not to make eye contact. He was an elderly man, his clothes ragged and dirty, his grey hair a long and unkempt mess of tangles on his head. A thick, mottled grey beard covered his jawline.

"Hey mister, can I ask you some questions?" She called out as she approached, his little legs that had been shuffling quickly in the opposite direction, stopping abruptly as he acknowledged her. Frozen on the spot like a deer in the headlamps, his eyes fixed on her, a crazed look on his face.

"Who sent you? I ain't talking. They tried to get me to talk before, and I didn't say anything. And I don't aim to now, by gum!" He barked.

She couldn't help but feel this man was not the full ticket, "I don't mean you any harm...", she affirmed, placing her empty hands flat out for him to see she was unarmed.

"We'll just see about that. You come any closer and I'm liable to stick you with my stickin' knife. Ol' Sticky's feeling mighty ornery this day!" He replied, a southern drawl heavy on his tongue, waving a very dirty looking knife in her face.

"Easy now! We can talk from this distance if you prefer".

"You sure now? It's kinda hard to hear you", she glared at him, "Okay, okay. Just speak up a little. But not so much that They hear you. They got people everywhere, always listening". Who are 'They', she wondered.

"Do you know anything about Boone's wife?" he looked at her blankly, "The sniper guy, ex-military, does the nightshift, you know, in the dinosaur?"

"Now that you mention it I do, yes, nice fella. Quiet...", he replied, seeming to drift off into his own world.

"So do you know anything about what happened to his wife? You seen her?"

He scratched his raggedy beard, and raised a bushy grey eyebrow as he contemplated her, "Seen it all. Seen shadowy folk come to his room and leave again in the middle of the night. Thought one might've gone into the lobby, too, for a spell. Could be that person went in to get something. Or use the john maybe. Mighty interesting either way, you ask me. I thought it was cannibals, come to eat us all for sure, so I kept out of sight. But now I know better."

"Who was it?", definitely not the whole ticket.

"Mole rat men, come up from the Un'erneath to steal young women with promises of riches and fancy mud mansions with all the latest designer appliances. They covet our ladyfolk's long hair for wigs, it's said, being either bald or balding themselves, but they can't fool old No-Bark".

"Why exactly do they call you No-Bark?" This was suddenly starting to make sense.

"Cause they know I ain't just barking here. What I say's got bite, 'cause it's the truth. Them quack doctors can say all they want about the radscorpion stings that done pierced my skull. But I knows what I seen".

"Right, anyway thanks, it's been..._interesting..._", she replied, unsure whether to dismiss him or pursue his ramblings, and this may have meant she was slightly crazy herself but she couldn't help but feel she got more sense out of this rambling old man than she had from anyone else in town, barring the molerat men, but she got the general idea.

She looked across the horizon, amazed that the sun was starting to dip in the sky. She found it hard to believe the whole day had just passed her by, and still it seemed she was no closer to finding an answer. However, the old guy said the lobby, I mean she'd had her suspicions about Jeannie-May, but was she really capable? She seemed so nice. Given the lack of alternatives she decided to check it out, but given that Jeannie-May was likely still around she decided it would be pertinent to wait until she finished for the evening.

~o~

She set up vigil in the town watering hole, ordering Brahmin stew and beer, and waited patiently as night fell over Novac. She watched as the townsfolk headed back to their homes, watched as Boone took over from Manny, and watched as the disappointment filled Manny's eyes as Boone disregarded him as he had done so many nights past. It pained her to admit, but she actually felt sorry for the guy as his eyes lingered on the spot where they'd crossed long after Boone had passed. Casting her a fleeting glance, he turned and walked away, shaking his head.

She sighed, and took a long swig of beer, setting the bottle down tentatively when she caught sight of Jeannie-May locking up. Bingo. This was what she was waiting for, a chance to access Jeannie's office. If No Bark is to believed that is where she'd likely find evidence of Jeannie's business dealing with the molerat men. Or something like that.

The girl pushed the bottle away, slung her leather pack over her shoulder and headed to the lobby door which stood in darkness. A quick glance around to check the area was clear, she tried the handle, most definitely locked, nothing more embarrassing than picking the lock on an open door.

She crouched down, pulling the screwdriver from her pack and slid it into the lock and pulling bobby pin from her hair she manipulated the lock earning a satisfying click. She grinned, and pushed the door to, slipping in through the gap, and closed the door behind her with a gentle click.

She hit the light on her pip-boy, and crept silently behind the desk, finding the locked floor-safe behind Jeannie's chair, which she wasted no time in setting to work on. Inside she found several hundred caps, an unusual looking pistol, and a stack of paperwork which, on further examination, contained a bill of sale for the purchase of one Carla Boone.

She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly as dry as the desert sands, as she scanned the document. Her eyes lingering on the phrase 'unborn child'. The full meaning not quite sinking in.

She sold her. Jeannie-May sold her. A slave to the Legion. And she was pregnant.

"You're freaking kidding me", she gasped in a low tone, shocked, "Jeannie-May, how could you?". She was genuinely shocked. Jeannie had come across as so warm and welcoming when she arrived her, but really inside she was as cold as they came. Of all things that were evil in this world, selling another person into slavery for the Legion had to be top of the list, more so considering she was somebody's pregnant wife.

She was startled from her thoughts when she caught wind of footfalls approaching the door, and in one swift movement she quickly turned her Pip-Boy light off and pressed her back against the counter, her free hand drifting down to That Gun she'd lifted from the safe, ignoring the fact that even if she were found she'd be hard pressed to use it. The footfalls came to a stop outside the door, and through the hazed window she could see the outline of a figure peering. She held her breath, and prayed the hammering of her heart in her chest wouldn't give her away.

After a few moments the figure left, and a ragged breath left her lips in relief as the footfalls faded into the distance as quickly as they'd come. Her body relaxed, momentarily, as she gathered her wits about her, and stuffing the note into her pocket, she closed the safe. The idea of taking the caps had crossed her mind, but the fact it was most likely blood money made her quickly dismiss the idea.

Rising to her feet slowly, she made her way gingerly to the reception door, and satisfied she could see nor hear anyone outside she took a few deep breaths and slipped out they way she came. She knew what she had to do as she gripped the rumpled beret tight.


	5. Chapter 5

Jeannie's home stood in darkness, not a sound came from within. Alex presumed the deceitful Landlady had turned in for the night, and so hammered on desperately on the older woman's door with such veracity that one would assume the town had come under attack. As expected the porch light came on, followed by the appearance of one very tired, looking Jeannie-May at the door.

"What is it dearie? Do you not know what time it is? This is something of an inappropriately my dear, people are trying to sleep..."

The girl panted heavily, trying to catch her breath, "I know Miss Crawford but I really didn't know what to do. Some gentlemen appeared, said they were looking for you. Said your payment came through on a contract or something. Said it was a matter of urgency. They sounded quite serious, I didn't know what to do..."

"Really?", she clucked, as she craned her head out her front door, presumably to see the visitors.

"They're waiting outside the dinosaur. Told them they best wait for you there, didn't want them waking up the whole town with that caravan of theirs. I'm sorry I had to wake you but I really didn't want to disturb Mr Boone!", the girl apologised, profusely, a worried expression painted across her face. Hell if she couldn't make it as a courier, she could always take up acting.

Jeannie smiled, her cold frail fingers bushing the girl's arm affectionately, "No, no dearie you did the right thing coming to me. No sense involving Mr Boone in such trivial business! He has far greater concerns to tend to."

_Worried he might figure you out you old hag,_ she grumbled inwardly, forcing a sweet smile on her lips as the older woman scurried past her rubbing her liver-spotted hands agitatedly. Probably in anticipation of all those caps.

The girl followed on uncomfortably noticing a sudden drop in temperature as she made the walk over to the dinosaur, a shiver rippling down her spine in anticipation of things to come. If she was being set up, she didn't want to imagine the consequences, and well if she wasn't, then she'd best be damn well prepared to live with consequences of her actions as she knew fine well that the sniper did not intend to let the woman live.

Her hand lingered on the red beret stuffed in her pocket as she contemplated the sniper, and her own mortality should this whole situation take a turn for the worst. Then the time for cold feet was past as she found herself standing directly below the sniper's nest of the green dino, grinning as ever, although from this steep angle it looked more ominous, like a slathering beast ready to end her life in one gnash of it's giant teeth. She was sure there was a cruel fittingness to that illusion given her present situation.

"Say dearie, where did you say those fellows should wait?", Jeannie's shrill drawl abruptly pulling her from her thoughts.

"I don't understand, I told them to wait here", she cried, and looked around frantically for the phantom caravan. Jeannie didn't look impressed. The girl sighed, "I guess I must have imagined it. Whoops. My bad...", sounding less than convincing.

Jeannie's smile faded as quickly as it came, and she regarded the girl with a cool callousness, "I don't quite know where it is you have come from, but I should warn you now I don't take kindly to being made a fool of. This was a fun little game, but let me tell you now girl, you do this again and I'll..."

"Sell my sorry ass to the slavers, Jeannie?", she replied coldly.

Dumbstruck, the older woman choked as her own words got tangled up on her tongue, "How did...", she spluttered, correcting herself hurriedly, "...how dare you! What is going on in that pretty little head of yours that could make you say such a vile thing..."

"Yeah, I guess I'm just a regular coldhearted bitch", she sighed as she pulled the crumpled hat from her pocket, and sat it on her head with a degree of trepidation. She knew what was coming.

Jeannie didn't.

"Why you little...", she shrill voice began, never to conclude, as the loud crack of the rifle cut the air, cracking the skull of the older woman, showering the younger woman with blood and viscera.

The breath hitched in the girl's chest as she tentatively cracked her eyes open to survey the carnage that was no doubt surrounding her. Her eyes fell to Jeannie's headless corpse, lying in a heap beside her, dark blood gushing from the woman's throat, and pooling at her feet. She stifled a gag at the crude sight, and dragged her eyes to the heavens, meeting the disgruntled sniper's gaze.

Her body trembled involuntarily, half expecting the sniper to have a second shot reserved just for her. He shifted the gun in his grip, as a tense moment passed. The shot didn't come. With a slight nod in her direction the sniper turned away.

Her head span, and her stomach heaved, unceremoniously depositing it's contents next to the still warm remains of Jeannie-May. She clamped her hands on her knees, and looked to the ground, taking slow, deep breaths. An acid taste coating her tongue. Shock or fear, she couldn't tell.

She straightened herself up slowly, and rinsed her mouth with bottled water, spitting it on the floor with a grunt. She drew a deep, purposeful breath. Now seemed as good a time as any to confront the sniper.

~o~

Most people would have run, bolted from her present situation, but not her. Now that could have been the result of that bullet scrambling her brains, or her own downright stubbornness, but either way she was in too deep to back out now, and she could have kicked herself right then for her own pigheadedness. Chasing your would-be murderer across the Mojave for a poker chip was one thing, but willingly confronting a potentially psychotic sharpshooter whilst covered in blood and bits of brain after helping him off the town matriarch was another thing entirely.

Any rational person could appreciate the precariousness of the situation. Yet here she stood, the only witness to the crime, and the only one who could identify the killer. This wasn't good. If he could shoot Jeannie without so much as a flinch of remorse, what would he do to her? The only witness to his crime. It may well have been the shock, but she found herself glued to the spot.

"How did you know?", he asked, cold eyes studying her closely.

"I...", she stuttered and fell silent as the words escaped her, unusual when she almost always knew what to say. She smiled at him awkwardly, and rummaged through her pack opting to hand him the bill of sale rather than start what would be a very awkward conversation with the man. That seemed like the most plausible option given her sudden onset of cotton-mouth, "I found this in the lobby. It's-"

Deftly, his large hand came to pluck the paper from her fingers, and she fell silent. She didn't need to explain anymore. The sniper's jaw tightened as he balled his fist around the paper with a crunch, and turned swiftly from her, gazing out over the horizon. An age passed, it seemed, and an awkward silence filled the room.

"I'm so sorry...", she mumbled almost inaudibly, instinctively reaching out to grip his shoulder but stopped the moment his hand raised dismissively, "I'm sorry you had to find out this way".

He nodded softly and lowered his hand, a choked laugh leaving his lips, "I guess I shouldn't be surprised, it's just like them to keep the paperwork", he grunted. When he turned back to face her, his stony visage was intact, not a trace of readable emotion on his face, but she knew what he must have felt inside. He reached into the pocket of his fatigues and withdrew his money pouch, holding it out to her, "Take it, it's not much but-".

"I don't want it", she interrupted, pushing his hand away gently and she looked into his eyes guiltily. She didn't want his money, she couldn't accept it, "...not for this".

He nodded, and reluctantly slipping the caps into his pocket he turned away. No other words were spoken, there was nothing left to say.

She sighed, silently depositing the bloodied beret at his feet and showed herself out. Suddenly Novac didn't seem so friendly anymore.


End file.
